Why Do We Fall?
by wordlings
Summary: Or: How Loki becomes a vigilante, with a little help from a friend. A dramedy.


Hello!

Thank you in advance for reading my story. And i apologize for any mistakes, but please review kindly!

**Title**: Why Do We Fall?

**Full summary**: While imprisoned on earth by the decree of the Allfather, Loki is stripped of his power and policed by his not-brother. Forced to get along with the humans, he finds himself on a journey of self-discovery that leads him down a path he never expected: the path of the vigilante.

**Setting**: Post Avengers AU

**Pairings**: Canon. And someone for Loki too, down the line.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing!

Love and thanks to my wonderful Beta Jessica Wolfe!

* * *

1

Here it comes

Don't you wish that life could be as simple

as fish swimming round in a barrel

when you've got the gun?

But here I lie

On my own in a separate sky

.

Sometimes Loki dreams of the fall. In the abyss it is so cold it burns. The restraints holding him to that place, to those people, snap and wither into nothing, and he can neither see nor hear nor feel anything at all. There is no Odin whispering his disappointment, no Thor dangling him over the edge, no plummet; only drifting. These are the peaceful dreams.

More often, he dreams of everything else. The failure; the pain; the _fear_; the past.

He despises that man, the one who hesitated, the one who felt an immediate staggering guilt after he'd already set the trap for his brother to stumble into clumsily; and he knew that he would fall for it, didn't he? He told himself that it was for everyone, that there was no way someone who could be fooled so easily should be king, at least not yet, not now, just please, a little more time, _wait_; And oh, how things escalated, how they spilled over into misery and betrayal when he hadn't meant for it, when it should have been so simple…it should have—

No. He cannot hide behind that man's intentions any longer. That man was weak, a child begging for recognition, pathetically attached to his captors. Because that was what they were, weren't they? Was he not merely the spoils of a war? No, he is not that man anymore.

Still, in his dreams he sees everything from a distance, watching, reliving, and can only regret.

;

Asgardians do not generally believe in the practice of taking prisoners. Loki knows this, and that death is inevitable.

Thor visits him at every nightfall. It is no different on this night. Loki doesn't bother to raise his head or lift himself up; he only leans back against the cell wall, waiting.

Distantly he hears the sound of strong foot-falls, heavy armor, the billowing of a cape. He cannot remember a time where Thor sounded any different. He himself—though he never lost his wiry frame—had sprouted up, gained muscle, lost his high lilting voice to that of a man's. But Thor; he had come into the world with a voice like the felling of trees and the broadness of a bull, it seemed. His gait is as loud and tromping as it's always been as he rounds the corner towards his cell. Loki wonders idly how someone with so little to despair could be so heavy.

"Brother", Thor approaches the door. The silent guards flanking it shift out of the way and out of sight.

"I am not your brother." It comes out without much thought. The phrase is beginning to taste dull on his tongue. Beneath his lashes he can see Thor's feet shuffle, his fists clench to the whitening of his knuckles.

"Loki", he sighs at length. "I do not know what is to come of this. I have spoken with Father but it is all uncertain to me…he reveals nothing, and the council is not forgiving. I am anxious, brother."

Loki decides it would be pointless to repeat himself. If the oaf wants to believe a lie for the rest of his life it is his own folly.

Thor is pacing now, his red cape dusting the cold dungeon floors. Loki watches the shadows he casts beneath torch light with vague interest. So this time is a bit different—Thor hadn't spoken of court before.

"—it is madness of a sort unknown to me, the way they go on and on. First they demand execution, then claim execution too lenient and petition for banishment! And Father sits looking on, betraying nothing, even as I standby and bite my tongue."

Banishment? Well, he had not thought of that.

"Banished," Loki murmurs, just to test it out, to hear it from his own mouth and feel its weight.

A cloaked figure slinks into his mind, snarling with bloodied and pointed little teeth, _There will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you_. And the fear is as familiar as it is jarring.

"Brother," Thor's voice rises, his hands gripping the bars to Loki's cage desperately. "Your life hangs in the balance. Have you nothing to say on the matter?"

"And what would you propose a prisoner should demand of his captors?" he replies, mocking.

Thor seems to debate his answer,"You may plead for leniency, as I have on your behalf. Show them—"

"You are a fool if you think I will beg," Loki scoffs, head lifting to finally look at the crowned prince, the so-called rightful King of Asgard.

Thor's eyes are somehow brighter in the shadowy den, his hair and cape more vibrant by the glow of the torches. The oaf certainly looked the part of a King. Asgard must have rejoiced at his return.

He thinks of his own return, how they'd freed his mouth and with it a slew of poisonous words in tear-stung 's features are slackened in his mind's eye, as if let go by some invisible thread that had kept his face forever stern. In the hundreds of years Loki has lived, he's never seen the Allfather look so…tired.

Beside Odin, Thor had trembled. Whether he was holding back tears or laughter, Loki does not know.

"If nothing is done…the council will have you executed at the hands of our Father, before all Asgard, I am sure of it. I cannot allow—"

"You cannot allow? As you allowed me to fall into an abyss?" Loki's tone is flat, but the anger spikes beneath his skin as a poison. Tremors run through his clenched fists. They only shake more with his efforts to still them. "You are being idiotic. I am a murderer, a traitor. My judgment was decided before I was ever brought here. Do not pretend to be ignorant. Nothing you do can stop what is already decided"

"You speak as if you crave death", Thor replies warily.

"What would you know of what I crave? What would you know of death?"

Thor does something now, a peculiar thing that he's always done when threatened or challenged; he shifts so he is resting back on the heels of his feet, his shoulders drawn back and his brows caving in with his chin tilted towards his chest. Loki observes this, half-amused. As children it signaled a fight he could not hope to win. As men, it meant a battle by Thor's side. Now, as enemies, he did not know the implication.

"I speak of our lives before…all this. You well know that I am not clean from innocent blood, nor am I a stranger to death. In my youth I courted war. And you…" Here Thor pauses, and his eyes flick down. "…you were beside me, despite it, to fight with me, to rebuke me, to fix whatever mess I'd conjured up in my ignorance. Do you remember that? It was always you, Loki, whom I could trust."

Loki laughs condescendingly. Trust? Of all the things! Could any in their so-called family truly speak of trust with a serious expression? Was it not a private, cruel joke?

"Oh, you cannot be serious," he replies. Thor frowns deeply, and Loki leans back in surprise. "You are serious. And you think yourself repaying some debt to me, is that it? Well, you have certainly exceeded my expectations for critical thought, Thor. Bravo."

"Is this all a joke to you, brother? A mere game? Have you no sense of what you have to lose?"

_To lose something you must first have it_, Loki thinks bitterly. But what would the crowned prince of Asgard know of loss?

Loki tilts his head and says,"I'm sitting chained in a prison cell in the bowels of Asgard. What have I to lose that is not already lost?" Then he casts his eyes about the cell and hums in contemplation. "Well, I suppose I would miss the little creatures who've been sharing the space with me...they've been surprisingly good company-"

"Loki", Thor cuts in heatedly. "This is no time for your sarcasm. I speak to you in earnest"

Loki picks at his fingernails in a show of disinterest. He can tell Thor is working himself into a passion, and feels the familiar thrill of getting underneath his skin. "Yes, yes, the great and mighty Thor speaks in earnest and the entire 9 realms must stop to listen. Kindly spare me the theatrics. What you seek is to redeem me, which, I assure you, is beyond your means."

"I seek to save your life!" Thor shouts and his words reverberate around the dungeon. "Your wrongs are indeed great, but can you rightly expect me to forget a lifetime of trust? Of brotherhood?"

Loki's teeth set on edge. "I don't expect a thing from you, you fool. Now please stop before you make an even bigger fool of yourself, if that is even possible. The Benevolent Older Brother act suits you ill, and I'm beginning to grow bored with your sentiment. "

"And I grow tired of your endless play of words! You craft vicious lies and weave insults so easily and yet you cannot be burdened to speak plainly in your own behalf! Is the truth so poisonous that you must behave like a coward?"

Loki's features darken. He stands and moves until he has the bars in his grip, his voice pitched low into a snarl as he speaks. "Every second of every day I spent in your company, every moment I did not take the opportunity to slit your throat, is one I regret. I betrayed you, Son of Odin, and would do so again if given the chance. There is your truth. So do not speak to me of your pathetic trust!"

Thor's jaw tightens, his gaze intent on Loki's face, searching it. Loki stares until his vision swims. "What?" he barks impatiently. "Did you expect repentance?"

Thor sighs. "You wield your sharp words and sarcasm as I might a shield, or Mjolnir. It is how you have always fought, how you have always...protected yourself. I had forgotten. I am sorry for calling you a coward"

What nonsense was this? What was he implying? Loki narrows his eyes, rage and anxiety churning lethally within him. "Don't be flowery, Thor. You have no gift with words"

He catches a flicker of a smile cross Thor's face, almost affectionate. "I do not claim to understand you brother-mine. But I know you; I know your masks." His expression becomes solemn. "I perceive that you are afraid. Of what I do not know"

Loki's throat constricts painfully, a sharp unpleasant thrill shooting up his spine. He swallows back the tightness, intent on giving a scathing reply, but all he can manage is a hoarse stuttering of breath. He laughs to cover it up but what comes out sounds terrible, like a bark.

"Speak, Loki." Thor continues. His voice is soft like one speaking to a frightened animal. "What is it that you fear?"

Loki backs away and paces the length of his cage, lips trembling with the effort to restrain his emotions. How easily they unravel! Slither out of his grasp with just a few well-placed words!

"It matters not", Loki clenches his fists until his nails leave crescents in his palms.

"What does not matter?"

"It matters not what I fear. Soon I will be gone, and it will not matter"

"Gone?" Thor repeats, horrified. "No...no, you must see reason little brother. Whatever it is, that cannot be your solution."

"And I am to assume you have a better way?"

"There is always another way, Loki. Let me help you...if you would speak to Father, he would listen, I know it!"

"No!" he whirls on Thor, contempt in his gaze. "He is _your_ father, not mine, and there is no listening ear for the stolen relic that has failed its purpose"

"Is that really all you think you are to him? To us?"

"What more could I be?"

"We are your family!"

"That is sentiment! Foolish, useless, meaningless sentiment, and you are a fool to believe it!"

"And what of mother? You would have her suffer your hatred as well?"

Loki stills. He wets his lips, dry and cracked, replying lowly, "I will hear no more of this"

Thor narrows his eyes and barrels on. "You would have yourself executed before her eyes, she who has loved you with no reserve your entire life—"

Loki recoils, his expression of contempt morphing into something wild; desperate. "I said I will hear no more of this!"

"No! You will hear this brother! Take revenge in whatever way you see fit, but to seek it in death is cruelity beyond even you!"

The bark resurfaces from Loki's throat, shaking a tear loose onto his cheek; he feels hurt by the accusation despite himself, and it shows in the bite of his words: "Bravo Thor! Bravo! You have gotten to the truth of it! I seek nothing more than revenge! And why shouldn't I? It's rather poetic, to meet my end at the hands of the ones who have _loved_ me with no _reserve_!"

_That idiot_, he thinks, _that mindless oaf!_

Thor looks confused for a moment; there is a momentary silence, filled with the sounds of their heavy breaths, and the reprieve gives Loki the chance to gather himself. He turns and gives Thor his back.

"If not revenge then what?" Thor rumbles, more frustrated now than angry. His worry is palpable. "What is it, Loki? What do you seek!"

_Peace, _he thinks, but will not say. _Peace. Peace!_

"Brother, please, tell me" Thor pleads.

"I am not your brother," Loki hisses. "And I tire of your company. Leave me"

"Loki..."

"Leave me!"

He hears Thor's rough exhalation and two steps backwards; signs of resignation. "I do not know what you expect to gain from death, but I do know you will not gain it", he says after a moment's pause. "I fear that your judgment will be decided soon. I will...leave you and speak with Father again"

Thor's footsteps are quick in retreat, the sound of his cape whispering against the ground as he rounds the corner, disappearing, ascending. Loki lets his eyes flicker closed. He sags against the wall, pinches the bridge of his nose, the stinging behind his eyes slowly ebbing away. He feels exposed and cold.

Banishment—ringing in his ears. It waits for him as the cloaked figure whispers, You think you know pain…

He is no longer certain what will become of him.

;

His dreams are full of regret, regret, regret in the night.

They come for him that morning. The trek from his cell to the throne room is short; shorter than he ever remembered, and then he is kneeling, shackled from mouth to feet before the Allfather.

He is going to die. The thought bleeds him dry. Emotions that were fraying the night prior are now curiously still, suspended in time. There is nothing left.

But the scene is beautiful, he cannot help but concede. A breathtaking landscape unfolds outside the palace windows. Between the arches, gold and light dancing against one another so vibrantly he winces. The room is bathed in the glow of their many stars and moons, golden seats and pillars shining beneath as if lit by fire. Every red and royal blue and green strikes out at him, stunningly. The dungeons had certainly dimmed his eyes, but Asgard, along with its palace, is as blinding as always. To not admire it before his death would be a shame.

The court and its council are equally regal, but he holds no special regard for his soon to be executioners. He barely looks into their faces.

The Allfather sits on his throne. He wears no armor, no gold plates, and no helmet—as if he's on his way out to roam the kingdom, to greet peasants and kiss the foreheads of children. The metal over his left eye shines, silver like his hair, and his staff is firmly in his hand. Frigga is beside her husband but Loki is careful not to look at her.

Thor stands nearby in his red-cape and armor. Sif, The Warriors Three, everyone, anyone, they are all present in pomp—and Heimdall, no doubt watching as well—to witness his demise. He would laugh, but the guard over his mouth makes it impossible to even smile.

As if hearing his thoughts, one of the guards forcefully pries the offensive thing from his jaw, murmuring a low warning to, "Be silent unless the Allfather addresses you, traitor".

Loki gives him a slow, easy smile in response. The one that stretches up to his eyes and flashes all his teeth; he knows well how he unnerves them. The guard shifts uncomfortably, his eyes facing forward just as someone on the council speaks.

"We would begin now, my King."

Loki cannot help himself. "Yes, let us begin. I am anxious to hear the no doubt inventive way in which I am to die"

Thor stiffens. The court fills with murmuring. He can feel the heat of their stares, the hatred in their thoughts, like a blade pressed to the skin of his throat. More than once he hears them question why his mouth has been freed in the first place.

"Outrageous!"

"Poisonous tongue!"

"It should be cut from his mouth!"

Odin gives no indication of hearing. He simply raises his hand and silence sweeps across the room. "Loki…Odin Son, My second born…In your quest for power you have betrayed your home, your family, and your king. Through treachery you compromised our realm to our enemies…and brought untold horrors upon the innocent lives of the people of Earth. For these crimes, I—and the citizens of Asgard—deem you unworthy of Asgard itself."

Loki's eyes are wet despite himself. Had he not been unworthy before? Did it matter his actions, when he had been condemned—a monster—from birth?

Odin continues in his calm unaffected way, and never once looks down. In an instant the stillness Loki feels ends. He is a child again, hurled into a frenzy of internal motion, his thoughts bumping up against one another, scrambling, trying to figure out any way to get Father to just look. His insides coil with the irrational desire.

"And wasn't I always unworthy?" he interrupts. The guards gripe at him threateningly, but he speaks over them, "Unworthy of the throne, unworthy of the truth! The lesser son, the dispensable relic! Forced to live under your everlasting disappointment! And only now, now that I have lived up to your expectations of failure, can you with courage call me unworthy!"

_Look at me. Look at me, you wretched old man! Look at me! Why won't you ever just look?_

The court explodes around them in fury.

"Let us send him back into the abyss to wander forever!"

"Banish him to Jotunheim so that they will give him justice!"

"Execute him now, and place his head where all the nine realms can see!"

Odin slams his staff into the floor. "You. Will. Be. Silent!"

The court hushes.

He drops his eye to capture Loki, and in his eye there is no severity or compassion, only that ever-present disappointment, quietly pinning the fallen prince down, like Mjolnir on his chest. "You have made yourself unworthy of your station as prince, unworthy of your title as a Son of Odin. You are unworthy…of your home and of your _life_!"

Frigga's anguish is quietly stifled behind her hand. Loki shuts his eyes. Thor was right, damn him. There is no peace in this.

"And so, before the council and court, in the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin Allfather, take from you…your life."

.

I don't wanna die  
On my own here tonight  
But here I lie  
On my own in a separate sky


End file.
